


they're singing happy birthday (you just wish it all were a dream)

by thispapermoon



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Hicsqueak, Pippa Pentangle is a pent-angel, Two witches in love, and tries to deal with the events of S2, but we already knew that, hecate experiences the bdays of everyone around her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 05:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17553950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thispapermoon/pseuds/thispapermoon
Summary: And, of course, Mildred Hubble, in her infinite capacity for causing chaos, determines that grand gestures of questionable judgement are the surest way to demonstrate affection.Which is how Cackle’s Academy comes to be filled to the brim with frogs.Hundreds ands hundreds of frogs.****Hecate Hardbroom has a complicated relationship with birthdays.





	they're singing happy birthday (you just wish it all were a dream)

**Author's Note:**

> hiiii. i wrote this really quickly. while half asleep. it is what it is! im not sure what it is! i just felt the need to put this out there. very unedited. 
> 
> xo

**Dimity.**

_“Did you have a birthday party last night?”_

_“I - um - didn’t think it’d be your sort of thing.”_

It rings in her ears and she pushes it down.

Hurt flares somewhere behind her breastbone, but she pushes it down.

She has no time to focus on social slights. No time for such unbecoming emotions.

She tells herself it doesn’t matter.

What matters is finding the Founding Stone.

What matters is apprehending Miss Mould. Catching her in the act.

_Miss Mould._

This outsider. This thief. Unnecessary. Unwanted.

And yet somehow more wanted than she herself is.

She pushes it down.

Find the Founding Stone.  Apprehend Miss Mould. She will put it all to rights.

Then they will see Miss Mould for who she truly is.

And then, maybe, just maybe, they will see _her_ for who she truly is.

______

**Esmeralda.**

Her mirror chirps and she looks up from her desk, frowning. She’s not expecting any calls. Hasn’t heard from Pippa for weeks. Not since she’d called Pippa _‘foolish and prone to flights of fancy,’_ after a disastrous evening spent together at a lecture on medieval witching texts.  

It’s just that at the reception Pippa had been carried from Hecate’s side of a wave of dizzying admires. And Hecate had stood in the corner, watching, as Pippa had chatted, and laughed, and charmed her way through the crowd, smiling over her shoulder at Hecate now and again, as if Hecate should take note at how socializing should be done.

She’d stood glowering and alone, spine straight, shoulders stiff. Watching sourly until Malcolm Thornhew had taken Pippa’s hand and kissed it in response to Pippa’s graceful well met. And Hecate had left in a black cloud of heartbroken anger, her transfer leaving her off balance as she landed hard, back in her rooms at Cackle’s.

Pippa had followed her.

She doesn’t know why that had surprised her. Or why it only made her all the more angry. So she’d picked a fight intentionally. Still can’t say why she’d done so. Only that lashing out at Pippa made her feel like hurt wasn’t hers to bear alone (though Pippa’s expression as she’d transferred away - with tears in her eyes and a look on her face that Hecate can hardly face remembering - only makes her feel all the worse).

The mirror chirps again and she looks up, foolish heart still ever hopeful, and startles to see the pale face of Esmeralda Hallow staring out of the glass.

In a breath, she’s transferred across the room, materializing to stand before the mirror.

“Miss Hallow.”

“Hi, Miss Hardbroom, well met. I hope I’m not interrupting. I - erm -  I wouldn’t have called it’s just -” Esmeralda breaks off, her head bowing, shoulders hunching as she shrugs. “ - it’s only that I didn’t know who else I could talk to.”

Hecate studies her for a moment and then crosses around the back of the chair before her and gingerly sits.

They look at each other and Esmeralda laughs a little, hands knotting and unknotting in her lap.

“I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have presumed. I’m sure you have better -”

“You have nothing to apologize for Esmeralda Hallow.”

Hecate’s voice comes out low, emotion clawing at her breath. Regret and and guilt chase their way through her system and she forces herself to hold Esmeralda’s gaze.

Esmeralda laughs softly again, just under her breath, and Hecate recognizes it as a mask for tears.

“How did you come to be able to make a mirror call?”

Eyes bright, Esmeralda shrugs again. “Our housekeeper. My mother is at the Council today. I said I’d help scrub the cauldrons out this afternoon if she would help me place this call. I’m sorry if I’m interrupting, perhaps I should have written.”

Hecate shakes her head. “If I can be of service, you need only ask.”

It’s inadequate. Not when what Esmeralda desires is her powers back.  To be normal. To come home to Cackle’s.

_Home._

She swallows.

“It’s just - “ Esmeralda starts, but her voice breaks and she shakes her head and tries again. “It’s just that at Cackle’s I knew who I was. Where I fit in. I had a place there. In that world. I never thought much about my future. It seems naive now to not have. I took so much for granted.”

She looked up at Hecate and her eyes are filled with pain. “Now that my magic is gone, I don’t know who I am without it. And no one else seems to know what to do with me anymore either. And I just - I just thought -” Esmeralda hesitates, and then -  “I just wanted to talk to someone who would have a grounded and sensible perspective. Who knows me. And I couldn’t think of anyone else. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Hecate feels something squeeze up tight inside her and Esmeralda rushes on.

“I’m sorry if that’s a silly request, or if I’m overstepping. It’s just I wanted someone familiar and I -”

Hecate stills her with a raise of her hand. Studies her. Her finest pupil. Her greatest failing.

“Do you recall your very first day in my potions lab, Miss Hallow?”

Esmeralda sniffs. “I could hardly reach my cauldron. I had to stand on my toes.”

Hecate smiles crookedly at the memory. “And what was the brew?”

“A Levitation Charm. I used it every class after that until I grew tall enough, otherwise I couldn’t see to stir.”

Hecate looks at her. Pleased.

“You chose that potion on purpose,” Esmeralda says slowly.

“No student had ever performed such remarkable work in our entrance exams. And yet you did it all perched on a stool, about to tip into your cauldron. It was it inadvisable to allow you to flout safety regulations, so, once you became enrolled, you simply needed to learn a few tools to adapt to your circumstances.”

“But I can’t levitate my way out of this situation -”

“No,” Hecate says, her voice coming out unusually soft and she sniffs. “No, you cannot. But while I merely taught you the charm, you were the one who applied it to your life.” She sniffs again. “Skill in magic is one thing, Esmeralda. But it is not your only value. You have been an exemplary Head Girl, the finest Cackle’s has ever seen. Our girls have looked to you in times of chaos and you have lead them with calm and quiet confidence. You have a sharp, clever mind. Your work ethic is a model for the younger girls, as is your kindness. Yes, your magic is lost. But those qualities remain with you. And they always shall.”

Esmeralda wipes at a tear and Hecate blinks a bit herself, feeling off center.

“Today’s my birthday,” the girl whispers.

 _Oh_.

“Happy Birthday, Esmeralda.” The words feel strange inside her mouth, but she finds that she means so much more that what they say.

“Thanks, Miss Hardbroom.”

There’s a noise on Esmeralda’s side of the mirror and she stiffens. “That’ll be Mum home. I best go. And quick.” She looks apologetic and Hecate has to stop herself from reaching for the glass.

“Esmeralda -”

The girl turns back.

“You may call again.”

The first true smile Hecate’s seen from her in ages splits across Esmeralda’s face.

“Alright. I will. Thanks, HB.”

There’s footsteps and the smile fades, panic rising on Esmeralda’s face.

“Go.”

With a nod and a wave, the connection ends and Hecate sits for a long, long time before the blank mirror, lost in troubled thoughts.

_____

**Ada.**

It’s imperative that they show Ada how much she means to the school. She should never have pulled the girls from rehearsal and into the classroom. Not when Ada’s now wandering the grounds, causing concern amongst teachers and girls alike.

She’s expecting a show. Expecting to be celebrated.

And Hecate’s gone about it all wrong.

Now’s a time to be strong. To show that Cackle’s is just as prestigious, just as rigorous as it ever has been. If that means a talent show - if that’s what it takes to get Ada to _focus_ \- then perhaps lesson can go unlearned for just one day.

She tries not to think of Ada leaving Cackle’s.

Of suddenly being tasked with the care and wellbeing of all the girls, alone and on her own. It would be too much change. She’s not a leader. She hasn’t the skills for that type of position.

She supports. She executes. More often than not she _demands._ But she does not _lead_.

Headmistresses are meant to be admired. To be adored. To be loved.

Hecate Hardbroom in no headmistress.

And things are _fine_ as they are.

As they always have been.

The school is simply going through a rough spell. Like a miscast whose effect lingers far longer than they ought to.

But she hasn’t miscast in years and has no intention of starting now.

A voice in her head whispers that if she thinks a talent show is enough to save Cackle’s, perhaps there are greater issues at hand.

She silences her apprehension and transfers back to the potions lab.

It’s Ada Cackle’s birthday.

And the show must go on.

______

**Bat.**

Algernon fills the whole of the staff room with flowers.

Dimity charms up little petit fours and Mould paints a big banner that reads _‘Happy Birthday Gwen.’_

Hecate, for her part, slips a small bundle of tea laced ginger and willow onto the table with the other gifts. A special concoction to sooth sore joints.

Miss Bat claps her gnarled hands and laughs when she sees the display: the treats laid out, the presents, the lilacs, and lilies, and sweet musk roses that crowd every surface, permeating the air with a heady scent.

It’s smells like Pippa and Hecate swallows. Her cheek still burns where Pippa’s kissed her there. She nearly reaches up and touches her nose, but stills her hand.

Perhaps she will mirror Pippa this evening. She suddenly misses her very much.

She wishes she could leave now and do just that. Be alone with Pippa. See her face. Hear her voice.  

And ask her _why._

 _Why_.

Why, after how Hecate has treated her, after weeks of silence after the incident at the lecture, after Pippa showed up at Cackle’s after Ada’s near-dismissal and Hecate saw her as the enemy and treated her as such, _why,_ Pippa still bothers with her.

She asks herself why as well. Why Pippa makes her heart squeeze up and her stomach cramp. And why it is that Hecate just wants to kiss her, and kiss her, and _kiss her._

Algernon leans over brushes a hand over Miss Bat’s who smiles and laughs.

And Hecate feels so lonely.

So terribly, terribly lonely.

Pippa won’t want to hear from her, she decides.

Pippa doesn’t know anything about life at Cackle’s - the missing Founding Stone, her suspicions about Miss Mould, Ada’s continued tailspin as she bounces between bouts of self-aggrandizement and self-pity.

And Hecate will keep it that way.

Pippa mustn’t see the cracks.

Pippa mustn’t know.

Miss Bat unwraps the bundle of tea and smiles directly at her.

And Hecate forces herself to smile back.

______

**Hecate.**

It doesn’t matter now many months pass since the dying of the Founding Stone and the Great Freeze, but Hecate cannot keep warm. She casts heat spells to line the inside of her dresses, drinks Soothing Solutions to calm her shaking hands.

Rising in the morning becomes harder. She simply wants to stay in bed forever. Her joints protest. Her skin aches. Her mind feels sick and fuzzy from a sleep where each night she slips beneath the ice again. Lost. Utterly lost.

February is cold - no colder than usual - but she shivers her way through the days. Keeps her regimen of classes, study halls, rounds. Avoids Ada. Snaps at Dimity. Stares at her dinner without eating.

She gets the girls to bed earlier than usual one evening, anxious to return to her rooms, anxious to be alone. When she is finally able, she’s startled to discover a roaring fire, a warm supper, a brightly colored box on the table beside a smiling Pippa.

“What - ?”

“Happy Birthday, Hiccup!”

Pippa rises and moves towards her. Hand gentle on her arm as she leans in to kiss her cheek.

Warmth.

Warmth everywhere.

Flooding her senses.

Flushing her cheeks.

Pippa steps back, eyes bright.

“I know you don’t like a lot of fanfare on your birthday - ”

“You remembered it’s my birthday.”  

It’s all she can think to say. She hardly has remembered it herself.

Certainly none of the other staff had, or dared to mention it if they did.

“I’ll always remember your birthday. Even when we weren’t speaking sometimes I’d -”

“Subscribe me to academic publications?”

Pippa looks surprised. “You knew it was me?”

Hecate shakes her head, feeling suddenly not very cold at all. Feeling suddenly overly the opposite. “No. Not until just now. But it seemed that around this time of year, I would mysteriously begin to receive _Witching World Weekly_ or _Hogbert’s Witching Journal_. I always thought it was in error.”

Pippa pinks. “It’s just that sometimes I missed you -”

There it is again. The warmth.

Hecate ducks her head and gestures at the table. “You needn’t have gone to all the trouble.”

Pippa’s flush deepens. “Of course. You probably already have eaten - I didn’t mean to intrude -”

“No.” It comes out breathlessly, the air around the word buffering it from coming out overly sharp. “No. Pipsqueak. Thank you.”

Pippa’s fingers find her wrist just briefly. “Come, sit down. Tell me about your day.”

Hecate shakes her head and Pippa doesn’t press. They move to the chair by the fire and Hecate sighs, feeling Pippa’s magic move around her, warming the air. Warming her skin.

She finds that she’s suddenly hungry and takes the soup Pippa serves her.

They eat in silence until finally Hecate sits back.

“I brought you something. Well, things.”

Pippa hands over the box and Hecate takes it with suddenly clumsy fingers.

“You needn't have.”

“I wanted to.”

Pippa smiles and nods in encouragement, and Hecate loosens the ribbon on the box and slowly slides it free.

Inside is an elegant bottle of high quality ink, and a very fine bottle of Fairy Spirits.

“Made with dew from cobwebs,” Pippa notes, eyes sparkling. “It’s finer than any brandy, or so they say.” She bites her lip and looks more serious. “Hiccup. I know things haven’t been easy as of late.” She pauses as Hecate flinches. “But I thought maybe we could return to our weekly chess matches. Sample some of the spirits from time to time. Relax. Talk. Not talk. Anything you want.”

Her gazes is so warm, and Hecate sniffs, shoulders rising and falling in discomfort.

It’s not that she dislikes the idea. It’s just that she likes it all too much.

“I’ve been worried about you.”

Pippa says the words so softly, and Hecate’s eyes snap up to meet hers.

“You have?”

“Very much. I know that if I ask you if you’re alright, you’ll tell me that you are. But,” she pauses and reaches out, stilling Hecate’s fingers where they rub distractedly against the glass of the bottle, “you needn’t be. It’s alright not to be. After the year you’ve had.”

Hecate blinks back tears and Pippa rises, crosses round and places and gentle hand against her back. Lightly, as if gauging her reaction. And Hecate finds herself relaxing a little more at the consideration.

“Pippa.”

She doesn’t know what else to say.

Only she suddenly feels very tired.

Pippa takes the bottle and places it on the table, picking up the ink instead.

“You’ve said you wanted to work on a manuscript. I thought you could use this for the final draft when you send it to the publishers. I, for one, can’t wait to read your research.”

Hecate looks up, heart and cheeks warm, warm, warm.

“Pippa.”

Pippa’s fingers catch the tear that spills unbidden down her cheek.

“I think we should have dessert,” she say, and smiles. “And then I think you should get a good night’s rest. You look rather exhausted, darling.”

_Darling._

Fire in her blood. Flames in her cheeks.

Warm. Warm. Warm.

She feels her lips tug up.

“Of course you would remember dessert.”

Pippa laughs. “Well, it is your birthday, after all. And I did bring cake.”

She waves her hand and a small miniature cake appears, _'Happy Birthday, Hecate'_ pipped across in orange letters.

“Carrot cake, your favorite.”

“But you hate carrot cake.”

“But it’s _your_ birthday.”

Hecate doesn’t know why it makes her cry, but Pippa doesn’t seem to mind.

By the time she transfers Pippa home it’s snowing.

And for the first time in months, she doesn’t feel cold at all.

_____

**Mildred and Algernon.**

Mildred Hubble and Algernon Rowan-Webb share a birthday. Because of course they do.

And, of course, Mildred Hubble, in her infinite capacity for causing chaos, determines that grand gestures of questionable judgement are the surest way to demonstrate affection.

Which is how Cackle’s Academy comes to be filled to the brim with frogs.

Hundreds and hundreds of frogs.

Leaping, and ribbiting, getting under foot and broomstick. Girls shriek and dash here and there as the startled creatures hop and scamper about their boots. Hecate thanks Merlin that Esmeralda’s powers have been restored as she spies her organizing several first years into a row and teaching them the summoning charm. Frogs zoom through the air and the girls catch them neatly in their laundry hampers.

“I’m sorry!” Mildred gasps, braids swinging as she tries to gather up several frogs at once and collect them in an empty cauldron. “I’m so sorry. I thought maybe I could turn the the pond into a frog conservatory as a birthday surprise. I didn’t realize that I’d cast a multiplication spell!” The frog in her hand escapes, hitting Ada in the shoulder and falling to the floor with an indigent croak.

Algernon tugs at his beard, eyes sparkling in delight. “Frogs for days,” he chortles, “like being amongst family!”

Hecate, for one, is very grateful when the ordeal is over. When the frogs have been gathered and the charm lifted. When all amphibians have been rehoused in the pond and Mildred sentenced to a week of detention studying multiplication spells with Rowan-Webb. A soft punishment to be sure, but it is the girl’s birthday, after all.

She sniffs and prepares for bed, unpinning her hair and transferring into a soft nightdress. She cannot wait to sleep. To put the ribbiting, leaping day of chaos in her past.

She pulls back the covers and screams.

Transfers the frog in her bed out to the pond. Curses her own surprise and shakes her head. Rues the day of Mildred Hubble's birth.

But her mouth tugs up into a small, amused smile all the same.

_____

**Pippa.**

Something bothers her all day long. A little disturbance in the back of her mind.

A nagging sensation. Uncomfortable. Unplaceable.

She gets through lessons and through study hall, makes her final rounds for the evening and can’t seem to shake the feeling that she’s guilty of something rather awful.

It doesn’t occur to her what it is until she’s back in her rooms, settled behind her desk, writing out the date on an attendance report.

 _May 2nd_.

May 2nd.

_Pippa._

Anxiety clenches at her gut. Fear and anger flashes through her.

Pippa.

Pippa’s birthday.

And she’s quite forgotten.

She thinks of the past few months. Of Pippa, solid and patient by her side. Of how each chess match, each quiet evening spent together, has healed her a little more.

And broken her a little more.

But Pippa has been warm, and consistent, and so incredibly gentle with her.

And now Hecate, once again, has gone and hurt her.

She curses and rises, panic making her thoughts crowd and bleed together. Pinching the bridge of her nose she tries to think. Tries not to remember how badly she’s abandoned Pippa before.

How Pippa has always tried.

And Hecate has always run.

She knows what it will look like now.

With shaking hands she curls her fingers, mind focused on Pentangles, mind focused on Pippa.

But her distraction is too great, her mind too unfocused, and she finds herself falling through black night, wind and rain around her, ground coming up to meet her as she falls hard, rolling through leaves and brambles, pushing herself upright and peering through the darkness at the jewel-like lights of a castle in the distance.

Close, but not close enough.

Never close enough to Pippa.

She takes a steading breath. Closes her eyes and lets the wind buffet at her. Feels her hair unspool and tangle around her throat. Rain on her cheeks. Cool air against her skin. Her clothes twist and eddy around her and she breathes in again. Focuses on Pippa’s room. Imagines Pippa safe within. At her desk, or reading on the couch. A fire in the hearth. A smile on her face.

Hecate transfers on an exhale.

She’s readied an apology, but it dies on her lips when she finds herself in darkened chambers. The grate is empty, the door to Pippa’s room ajar. There are flowers and birthday cards on the table. Tokens of from the girls to their beloved headmistress.

For headmistresses are meant to be admired. To be adored. To be loved.

And Hecate Hardbroom in still no headmistress.

She thinks of Pippa remembering her birthday when all others had not.  A single spot of warmth in a life that otherwise feels cold and lonely. How lonely and utterly pitiful Hecate’s life must seem in comparison to Pippa's own.

For of course Pippa is not home on the evening of her birthday. Of course she is not sitting at her desk, or reading on the couch. Of course she has friends, possibly someone more than just a friend, of course she would be with them.

And Hecate hadn’t even remembered the date.

Tears of bitter disappointment at her thoughtlessness sting her eyes and she turns, preparing the transfer. The spell is just rising in her mind when the door swings open and Pippa stands framed in the light beyond.

Her hair is up, her eyes painted, lips pink. The gold dress she wears is hardly there at all, a slip of satin that leaves shoulders bare aside from thin straps. Hecate can’t pull her eyes away, can’t catch her breath. Can’t believe that anyone’s legs can look that long or beautiful. Can’t believe that she thought Pippa would even want to spend time with her on such a special day. Not when she has somewhere else to be. Not when she’s looking like that.

Looking at her like _that_.

For Pippa’s eyes haven’t left her face. She stands frozen, painted lips parted in surprise.

Hecate swallows and Pippa suddenly launches her into motion, shutting the door, fingers curling as the lights come up to coat the room in a soft warmth.

“Hecate - _Merlin_ \- are you alright?”

Pippa’s at her side in an instant, hands on her cheeks, thumb rubbing, and Hecate feels the grittiness of dirt being swept from her skin. Realizes she must look a sight with muddy robes and tangled, windswept hair.

She flushes.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s hardly more than a whisper, and Pippa’s looking at her with searching eyes and Hecate bites her cheek as shame spreads through her.

“What’s happened. Hecate -?”

Hecate shakes her head. “I forgot it was your birthday,” she mumbles, eyes dropping, unable to face Pippa. “I didn’t want you to think -” she swallows, lost. But she needs Pippa to know. “I didn’t want you to think that I’d abandoned you again.”

Pippa’s eyes widen, her fingers stilling against Hecate’s cheek. “So you flew here - ?”

Again, Hecate shakes her head, shamefaced. “Misjudged my transfer.”

“Hecate.” Pippa’s expression is troubled. “That’s so dangerous, what if you’d -”

“It doesn’t matter,” Hecate says, pulling away. “I’ve interrupted you. I should have mirrored. I should have remembered.”

Pippa grasps her wrist to keep her from straying too far, she sways a little and Hecate frowns.

“Pippa.”

Pippa stumbles forward and her arms go around Hecate’s neck, pulling her close. “Thank _Merlin_ you’re alright. You gave me a terrible fright.”

“I did?”

“You look rather bristles over broomstick, darling.”

Pippa’s clinging to her and Hecate realizes how much of her weight she’s supporting. Suddenly she’s keenly aware of every where their bodies touch and a hot flush surges through her nerve endings. “Pippa.”

“Mmmm.”

“I’m sorry.”

Pippa moves closer still, face buried in her neck and Hecate’s heart begins to beat in painful thumps.

“You’re here, I can’t believe it. I’m so glad.” Pippa pulls back but keeps her arms looped over Hecate’s shoulders smiling at her. “And I’m the one you should forgive, I’ve had two glasses of champagne and confess to being rather tipsy.”

“I should let you get back to your party. I shouldn’t have interrupted.”

“You keep saying that,” Pippa frowns. “It was a surprise party, if you must know. Just the staff. I was planning on a quiet birthday. But my deputy fixed it all up and transferred me into this _outfit_ \- I look like it is New Year’s Eve all over again.”

Hecate can feel the soft fabric of Pippa’s dress under her hands and the soft shape and warmth of Pippa beneath that. She swallows.

“You should come join us, everyone would love to meet you.”

But Hecate shakes her head. “I wouldn’t interrupt. Besides, I look a sight. And I’m not one for parties. I wouldn’t want to spoil your evening. Your colleagues surely would have a better time without having to entertain an old school friend.”

“Nonsense,” Pippa smiles, “they all know I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Hecate’s hands suddenly seem cemented onto the small of Pippa’s back. And Pippa’s still smiling, eyes happy and Hecate’s brain feels like it’s moving out of sync with time.

“Pippa - you - Pippa, what?”

Pippa blinks and her lips move as if reviewing her slip and she gasps, stiffening in Hecate’s arms. She tries to draw away but Hecate can’t seem to move enough to release her.

“Pippa?”

Pippa sags. “I - I  - love - you?”

Something seems to go off in Hecate, like an explosion where fire and flame is chased by shock and silence. She feels weak, and suddenly Pippa’s the one supporting her.

“Hiccup. Hiccup, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t thinking. I was just so happy to see you - and relieved that you had come - and I was so worried about you - I shouldn’t have said that without thinking - “

“Is it true?”

Hecate finds her voice, rough and frightened. Full of longing.

And Pippa’s hands come up to cup her cheeks, fingers insistent as she pulls Hecate’s chin up to look at her. “Of course it is. It always has been. Hecate - I - I -”

Hecate kisses her.

It’s off center. Slightly clumsy.

But Pippa kisses back, mouth opening beneath her, hands moving into her hair to tug her closer. It’s desperate and messy, but Pippa doesn’t pull back, guiding Hecate until their kisses become a little more deliberate, more focused.

And Hecate finds herself gasping, trembling, hands sliding up and down the silk of Pippa’s dress as Pippa’s kisses grow more insistent. Pippa kisses her bottom lip, tugs it into her mouth and Hecate’s knees unlock. She falls forward and they break apart, Pippa laughing, stumbling slightly herself.

“Is this just because you’ve had champaign?” Hecate whispers, loathed to ask, but desperate to know. Her lips tingle and her cheeks feel far too hot.

“No.” Pippa shakes her head so hard her hair comes unpinned. It tumbles down around her face and Hecate’s hands follow the movement, cupping Pippa’s cheek and guiding her back in for another kiss. “I love you,” she mumbles when they part. “I do.”

Pippa plants small kisses against the corner of her mouth, her cheek, the tip of her nose. “Hecate Hardbroom. The Witchiest Witch. My love.”

Hecate blushes.

“I love you, too.”

Emotion rises in her, and Hecate strokes a finger down Pippa’s cheek, at a loss over her beauty. Overwhelmed that Pippa feels this way about her.

The door bangs open and they jump, and Pippa begins to laugh again, sagging against Hecate as the woman in the doorway looks surprised and then rather smug.

“Merlin’s Spellbook, took you two long enough. I hoped this was the case, Pips, when you went to check your Intruder Charm and didn’t come back. Hoped you were in getting a true Birthday Surprise and not getting bludgeoned by burglars. Thought I better had come and check in case it was the latter.”

Hecate can’t stop her face from burning, but Pippa merely moves closer, wrapping her arm around Hecate’s waist and leaning against her.

“Avery Heartsong. Your timing. It's _terrible._ ” Pippa laughs, lips swollen, eyes happy. “No matter, I’d like you to meet -”

“Hecate Hardbroom, love of your life, I _know_ who she is, Pip. And I expect you to introduce us properly over tea and some sweets once you’ve got better things to do than what I dare say you two are about to.”

She winks and Hecate longs to fall through the floor.

“And not for nothing, Pentangle, but when I dressed you up, I was hoping something of the sort would happen.” She eyes Hecate, grin more cheeky with every passing moment. “Why should birthday girls have all the fun, eh?” She lifts and eyebrow at Hecate. “Enjoy.”

She’s gone with a last wink, door shutting behind her, and Hecate recognizes the Privacy Spell she leaves in her wake.

Pippa buries her face in Hecate’s arm and blushes. “Avery is a gem. Though I daresay you’ll never forgive her, will you?”

Hecate shakes her head, still stunned. “She’s not wrong.”

“About?”

Hecate’s fingers slide up the back of Pippa’s neck and into her hair. “You’re a gift,” she whispers, nose brushing Pippa’s.

“Oh,” Pippa breathes, arms coming up until she’s once again clinging to Hecate. “Well,” her eyes sparkle. “Would you like to unwrap me?”

Hecate forgets how to breath.

Pippa gives her a wicked smile then kisses her, guiding Hecate’s hand down and over her body to the hem of her dress.

Hecate finds her voice, mouth dry. “I would.”

“Good,” Pippa whispers and tugs her backwards through her bedroom door until they land on the bed, she falls and lays splayed out beneath her, Hecate’s long, damp hair draping around them both.

“Hecate?” Pippa cups her face, fingers gentle as Hecate tries to kiss her just about everywhere - collar bones, and lips, and behind her ear, and a little spot on her neck that makes Pippa arch -

“Mmm?”

Hands tug her up until they’re nose to nose. “All I have ever wanted is this. Ever.” Pippa’s eyes are serious and when they kiss it’s so tender that Hecate pulls away with tears in her eyes.

“As have I.”

Pippa kisses her cheek and sighs. “Finally then?”

“Finally.”

“You have a leaf in your hair.” Pippa’s fingers find it and pluck it free. “Several.”

And Hecate can’t help the happy laugh that bubbles out her her, unexpected but not unwelcome as Pippa laughs back.

“I didn’t get you a birthday gift.” Shame tugs at her again but Pippa looks up at her, eyes bright and warm.

“Darling,” she sighs. “For what I can tell, you are about to make me a _very_ happy woman.” She shifts a little under Hecate, adjusting them until Hecate settles between her hips and Hecate feels a tug of something low and pleasant within her. “And from what I can tell, I’m about to make you a _very_ , _very_ happy woman. Which in turn would make me an even _happier_ woman.”

She leans up and nuzzles at Hecate’s neck and Hecate’s stomach somersaults.

“Is that an agreeable arrangement?”

Heat flooding through her, Hecate nods and Pippa leans up and kisses her until she’s dizzy.

Later, Hecate will wish she could remember every moment that passed between them. Every whisper, every breath, every sensation. Time blurs as they unveil themselves, as the gold dress slips to the floor, as Hecate’s muddy one follows after. As they move together, skin to skin, as Pippa becomes her whole world, a map beneath her hands as she finds canyons and valleys that make her arch and sigh. She loses herself to Pippa’s soft hands and warm mouth. Comes alive, and dies, and is reborn beneath her.

And when they find themselves exhausted, naked and damp skinned, twined together in the half light of a nearing dawn, Hecate sweeps a hand down Pippa’s back and whispers, “Happy Birthday.”

Pippa looks at her, eyes catching the gray light that gathers just beyond the windows and smiles. “It’s not my birthday anymore.”

Hecate presses a kiss to the inside of her palm. “I have thirty years of birthdays to make up for.” She nips at Pippa’s pulse point, delighting in the small gasp it draws from Pippa.

“Oh, in that case.” Pippa moves over her, body warm against her own, lips soft as she kisses Hecate carefully. “We shan’t get out of bed for a month.”

Hecate shakes her head.

“I want a lifetime,” she whispers, vulnerable and brave all at once - decided in her desire - a relief after so many empty years of longing.

“A lifetime.” Pippa nudges their noses together.

“All the birthdays that are to come.”

Their next kiss has Hecate gasping, hands trembling once again on Pippa’s back, hips softening beneath her.

“All the birthdays that are to come,” Pippa whispers back. “I like the sound of that.”

And Hecate pulls her close. Kisses her, and kisses her, and _kisses her._

Leans into Pippa and lets herself feel wanted.

And it's the greatest gift of all.


End file.
